


Growing Pains

by Lamachine



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Childhood, Family Dynamics, Gen, Pre-Frozen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 17:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lamachine/pseuds/Lamachine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raising a child is no easy matter, and at one point, one is bound to make (more than) a few mistakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growing Pains

**Author's Note:**

> Exploring of Elsa and Anna's childhood from the very beginning, and their parents particular views on their eldest's powers - please do not take this fic as an endorsement of their actions.

“Really my love, the child is fine.”

 

Her husband insists, and she caves; or at least, appears so. She cannot believe this doctor’s diagnostic any more than she did accept the opinion of the latest four medical authorities who examined every inch of her three-months-old infant. It matters not that this one comes all the way from the eastern part of the kingdom, and that he is well-versed in the complex caring of _gifted children_ , as he says; as all others, he simply does not gauge the situation as well as she does. She, as Elsa’s mother, knows very well that something is wrong with her first-born, and the thought sickens her more than she could ever admit, even to her beloved spouse.

 

Oh, but they think she does not know of the whispers that roam the castle’s halls when they believe she is too far to hear. There is talk of an illness that seeps into some women after birthing – as if bringing a child into this world brought them to unspeakable ends. Like sailors enthralled by charming mermaids, those poor, weak-minded creatures become allured to fictions and whimsies that drive them mad, and that eventually bring them to a crushing fate. The Queen notices the fear lurking behind her lover’s pupils at times, and she slowly learns to remain silent.

 

But really, is she imagining it all, as they all suggested at one point? How Elsa’s hands can suddenly become as cold as ice in a matter of seconds? And where do they come from, these round spots of water that keep appearing amongst the sheets of her bassinet, humidity seeping through the fabric as if _something_ had been there – something that had melted away before she could see? What of the evening when, as she cradled her dear daughter to sleep on the old rocking chair by the fireplace, a thin layer of ice had appeared on the fabric of her dress, where Elsa had been tightening her fragile little fist?

 

The maids and the nanny do not add their voices to the rumors, and that comforts the Queen in the notion that she might not be alone in noticing the strange singularities that occurs around her beloved child. Propriety keeps her from discussing such matters, however, and she finds herself very much alone with her worries, hiding the anxiety even from her husband, for fear he would have her committed, separated forever from her precious Elsa. Patiently, she waits for the day when he will undoubtedly stumble across the same incongruous occurrences as she has; the bizarre phenomena is bound to happen again, and this time, perhaps, he will finally witness it. And then, at last, she can share that burden with someone.

 

After six months into this world, Elsa’s teeth decide to show themselves, bringing along sleepless nights and unstoppable cries. Most royals would have deferred the nightly routine of comforting the inconsolable princess to their faithful servants, but the King and Queen of Arendelle had long hoped to raise an heir, and they stubbornly refuse to miss out of any part of its young existence. Elsa’s nanny still remains available, of course, and as such, is as restless as any other occupant of the royal wing as the small being causes one tantrum after another. It is, then, a surprise to many when the sun comes down and rises again, one day, without any screams emerging from the blue and white cradle.

 

That might explain why there is a slight worry nested in the King’s heart that morning, as he pulls himself out of bed, careful not to wrestle with the sheets. One look to his slumbering wife convinces him to leave her to her rest – she has, after all, truly deserved to sleep in. Of course, he also deeply appreciates the few alone moments he can steal with Elsa; with his daily responsibilities, he barely has time to see his daughter during the day, and with a strange mixture of sadness and pride, he can’t help but notice that she is growing up very rapidly.

 

Slipping himself into Elsa’s chamber without a sound, he makes his way towards the cradle as noiselessly as he possibly can – if his baby girl is still sleeping, he will be damned if he awakes her. However, he is pleased when his eyes find welcoming blue orbs; giant irises that warm without fail every fiber of his being. A smile settles on his lips as he allows himself to stare at the infant, little creature gazing up to him as if he was the most wondrous thing in the universe.

 

Well, maybe not the most amazing after all – seeing the intense dedication the child is currently having at eating her teddy bear’s ear like it was a buffet of chocolate delicacies. Achingly simple and familiar, the gesture almost blinds the King as to _why_ his child, who has been a tidal wave of unstoppable cries recently, is suddenly so very quiet. It takes him more time than he would care to admit to notice the frosted tips of the stuffed toy’s fur.

 

In Elsa’s tiny arms, the teddy bear is dripping wet; its right ear, while being thoroughly chewed by the six-months-old, is also covered in ice. The baby’s crunching jaw restlessly repeats the motion, painful gums finding relief in the coldness of the fabric. The King blinks once, and then twice, before resting one hand on the cradle’s side. Eyes lifting, he throws his gaze across the window and stares at the rising summer sun and the pink sky surrounding it; the promise of another very warm day in Arendelle.

 

For the first time in months, he remembers the many doctors that visited the castle during Elsa’s first weeks; the unending parade of experts that swore her daughter was a healthy, normal little girl. He remembers his wife’s stories of cold hands and ice appearing from seemingly nowhere, and guilt adds weight to his worry as he gazes down once more on his beloved infant.

 

Elsa smiles back naively, teddy’s ear still trapped in her mouth.

 

_At least she’s not crying anymore._

 

 

+-/+-/+-/+-/+-/+-/+-/+-/+

 

 

Only ten months into this world and already, Elsa wants to say something.

 

For days now, her parents, the maids, the nanny – everybody in Arendelle’s castle, really – have watched her struggle with the words. Mouth opened, tongue moving around awkwardly, jaw unable to settle on the correct position; the baby babbles but never succeeds in forming anything intelligible, until that day.

 

Her mother is reading up on communal law – a local farmer’s dispute with the marketplace organisation has been going on for way too long, and her husband, while good intentioned, is not well-versed in these kinds of politics. Book held tightly in her hands, she barely pays attention to the constant chatting that rises from Elsa’s cradle. Repeating consonants with obvious pleasure, the little girl has come so far as to reproduce almost every letter of the alphabet, but has yet to master any actual words.

 

“No.”

 

The Queen pauses her reading but dares not to move. She holds her breath, all attention focused on her daughter as her muscles tense. Once again, she hears it loud and clear; “no”.

 

Even putting aside the negative aspect of the word, it is rather heart wrenching that Elsa’s first word turns out to be as detached as “no”. Still, it seems like an improvement, and as her mother, the Queen cannot stop the feeling of pride that warms through her chest as she rises from her seat, putting the book aside to reach her daughter’s cradle. In the bassinet, the infant looks even smaller than she truly is, and the sight reminds her of how deeply she cares for the child’s wellbeing.

 

Her eyes are still filled with tears when her husband finds her, half-an-hour later; Elsa’s lightweight resting on her hips as she stands by the window, looking at the beautiful landscape of Arendelle under the winter storm. Without a word, the King joins them in a warm embrace and they remain there, the three of them glued together, voiceless in front of the harshness of their kingdom’s current weather. Surrounded by so much peace, only for a second does the Queen hesitate to tell her spouse of Elsa’s recent achievements, and as if it had triggered something in the child, she opens her mouth again;

 

“No! No!”

 

Something lights up inside Elsa’s father’s eyes as he realizes the true intent behind his daughter’s now incessant gibbering. His wife notices the sudden change upon his face, but waits patiently for the explanation.

 

“She’s trying to say _snow_ ”, he whispers, adding a wink to his loving smile.

 

As if trying to confirm her father’s hypothesis, Elsa speaks again, loud as she eagerly reaches towards the window: “no! No!”


End file.
